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So, last Friday evening I end up spending a good majority of my evening as a patient in the ER where I worked before I became a full time professor.
Woke up with severe left quadrant abdominal pain and nausea. I have a history of Irritable Bowel Syndrome; this felt like that. As the day, my symptoms worsened to the point where I had to cancel clinic for the day (which I seldom do).
I take my anti-spasmodic, kept the diet to chicken noodle soup and ginger ale with no relief. When I got to the point where I started vomiting, it was late afternoon. I surrendered to the situation and called EE to take me to the hospital.
The triage process went quick enough. But the place was full and filling fast. They told me I'd have to wait a bit.
As the evening progressed, the pain got worse and worse. I continued vomiting. EE got increasingly concerned because I was shaky, pale, and yellow. I became restless; couldn't sit still, unsteady when I stood. Finally, I had to lie down on the floor.
Five hours later, I get a room. Shortly before I'm roomed, EE calls her hubby to update her on my situation, and the fact it'll still be awhile before she gets home. When she tells the whole story of what had been going on, he had only one word for my situation:
Karma.
He's heard all the stories, you see, of sucky patients in the waiting room causing a ruckus and my implacable wall-i-tude in dealing with them. He figures I'm getting my comeuppance.
He's probably right,
I must have had some good karma though. Even though my veins completely disappeared, the nurse was able to get me with one stick, and so were the lab techs. The care in the back was actually pretty good; the old gang took good care of me.
EE got to watch quite the interesting show since they "roomed me" in a hall bed: got to see the unconscious overdose, the CPR in process roll in (didn't make it
) and the guy with 7 gunshots to the chest (went to the OR, don't know how he did).
Woke up with severe left quadrant abdominal pain and nausea. I have a history of Irritable Bowel Syndrome; this felt like that. As the day, my symptoms worsened to the point where I had to cancel clinic for the day (which I seldom do).
I take my anti-spasmodic, kept the diet to chicken noodle soup and ginger ale with no relief. When I got to the point where I started vomiting, it was late afternoon. I surrendered to the situation and called EE to take me to the hospital.
The triage process went quick enough. But the place was full and filling fast. They told me I'd have to wait a bit.
As the evening progressed, the pain got worse and worse. I continued vomiting. EE got increasingly concerned because I was shaky, pale, and yellow. I became restless; couldn't sit still, unsteady when I stood. Finally, I had to lie down on the floor.
Five hours later, I get a room. Shortly before I'm roomed, EE calls her hubby to update her on my situation, and the fact it'll still be awhile before she gets home. When she tells the whole story of what had been going on, he had only one word for my situation:
Karma.
He's heard all the stories, you see, of sucky patients in the waiting room causing a ruckus and my implacable wall-i-tude in dealing with them. He figures I'm getting my comeuppance.
He's probably right,
I must have had some good karma though. Even though my veins completely disappeared, the nurse was able to get me with one stick, and so were the lab techs. The care in the back was actually pretty good; the old gang took good care of me.
EE got to watch quite the interesting show since they "roomed me" in a hall bed: got to see the unconscious overdose, the CPR in process roll in (didn't make it
) and the guy with 7 gunshots to the chest (went to the OR, don't know how he did).
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